Back to Sodor
by The Bohemian Rhapsody
Summary: Sodor 2019 is a very depressing place. Staff inefficiency is through the roof, Sir Toppham Hat's retirement, and lack of interest from employees has pushed NWR onto it's knees. But when the PA system cracks to life, Sodor may be saved. (Story contains mild bad language and very infrequent use of implied strong language) Chapter 1 is nearly complete.


"2, 4, 6, 8! Shunt those trucks and haul the freight!" yells the ageing dock manager, palming his face and wiping the sweat from his brow. Things have been chaotic in Sodor after Sir Toppham Hat's retirement, with nobody meeting NWR's directive requirements. Each part of the railway is run by the old staff, some in their late seventies, and it's possibly the least efficient railway in service, as of 2019. The seldom few steam engines are left to decay in their sheds, the diesels are weaving the rails, often colliding and creating an awful clatter, while the catenary construction has halted because there is no money to spare.

The diesel number 2 speaks up; "We can't keep it up! Me wheels are meltin' in this bloody heat!"

Number 4 agrees; "Is too hard to do more! My cooler, it is hurting!"

Hybrid diesel 6 issues an ultimatum; "If you refuse to grant us our _routine _servicing, we **will** deny you our workforce!"

Engine 8 just blinks in acknowlegement.

\--

In the long abandoned storage buildings, now turned workshops, disassembled members of the steam team are kept on racks, their boilers seperated from the frames, exposing the highly corroded metal inside. Parts were ordered, but couldn't be paid for, thus causing the entire fleet to be left to collect dust.

0-6-0 'E2' Thomas is one of the only surviving members. He spends his days playing Blackjack with his former crew, William and Darwin, and even draws a crowd during longer games. His crew is useless against him, however, and William is having none of it today.

"For God's sake, Thomas, you're cheating!" he exclaims in a fit of fury, scattering the entire deck across the floor. "You're a train! This isn't funny!"

\--

Running in the Heritage Railway is a long, proud blue engine. Stumpy smokestack, vivid red trim, and a golden number four, this is Gordon, former pride and joy of Great Western, then North Western, but donated for restoration in 1997. He pulls a long set of burgundy/cream carriages, filled with the joyful laughter of children, and the depressed groaning of their signifigantly poorer parents, who paid full admission for the ride. Nobody knows what he is, but they say he's a bit of a Scotsman.

Even though he displays his proud colors almost every day, and with the great advantage of being able to use oil instead of coal after a much needed conversion, he still sulks. _He_ never asked to be taken away. _He_ never wanted to become an exhibit. Oh, the indignity! He wants to haul _goods_, and get _dirty_, while sitting in the musty shed he loved so much. It was just what he knew as home...

That and the iPod his driver plugged into him through the cab. Now he's stuck listening to _Bohemian Rhapsody_. A great song... try listening to it every day for 22 years. That's 8,035 times, plus this year. And those children get so loud! And the parents sound like zombies! "GET ME OFF THIS DAMNED RAILWAY!!!"

\--

**_CURRENTLY A PLACEHOLDER_**

\--

Suddenly, sparks fly as the ancient speaker system comes to life for the first time in years. Everybody stops. Sodor is silent...

Feedback resonates through the old speakers, before dying down. A man clears his throat through the microphone.

"Hm-hm-hmm! Attention, all North Western workers; this is your new director, Mister Mallard Goodspeed." A few workers chuckle at the name, others deadly silent.

"I know that for the last five years, your working efficiency has been... less than ideal. I am here to change that. I will utilize our existing assets, sell the electric engines, and climb us out of debt!"

He rambles on for about half an hour, the youngest workers simply too bored to listen.

"Oi, Ted! Maybe he'll let you run that green git again!" croaks a very old man, sweeping the Tidmouth roundabout. His companion stomps out his cigar and turns toward the loud janitor. "...you said were as black as-"

"SOOT." Ted cuts in quickly. "It took too long to get that off my back. Don't put it back on."

Tidmouth isn't empty. The Steam Team is smaller, but they're anxious to get back to work.

A long, green engine smiles upon hearing a voice he thought lost.


End file.
